


The quiet nonchalance of death

by aimeewrites



Category: Holby City
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21899623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimeewrites/pseuds/aimeewrites
Summary: Prompt : "Charlotte dies, not Elinor" (Fic for the Berena Secret Santa 2019 )there's a play list to go with it :https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL0kaJAm-ue9oNxccdeOavfv7o8UxJW3CR(Title borrowed from Emily Dickinson)
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26
Collections: Berena Secret Santa 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HartKins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HartKins/gifts).



> I apologise in advance for the angst - with that prompt, it was inevitable ... So ... I hope I'll make you cry ...

The Christmas rush had been going on for far too long… It had started around Bonfire Night, with people injuring themselves with fireworks, and hadn’t stopped since. People falling from ladders, slashing their hands open with knives and far too many RTCs… In Kandahar or in Iraq, Christmas hadn’t been such a big deal and Bernie kind of missed that. Sure, they had had special meals in the canteens and even plastic trees popping up around the barracks, but mostly it had been work as usual. Certainly no carol singers or Christmas jumpers like at Holby. And no “family” lunch… Actually, Bernie remembered that the most Christmassy thing about the previous 25th of December had been a beer with Alex in the mess bar – no kisses, no hand holding, of course, not in public – and a quick cuddle in her room before they had both been paged for the victims of an ambush. Two soldiers had died that day – all she had thought afterwards was “Not fair”… Not fair that the lives of two young men had been cut off so early. Not fair that they had to hide.

Alex hadn’t been happy about the situation and it was all her fault. She was the married one – the cheat. She wasn’t sure she would have been able to acknowledge their relationship anyway. Don’t ask, don’t tell wasn’t so far away… She had never been comfortable with PDAs. But it was her fault that they had to live in secret – and it was she who had broken up with Alex. To try again. To give her marriage another chance. After all, Marcus had never done anything to her, poor man. Except maybe loving her, and she wasn’t used to that. He was just kind of …. Boring. The basic nice guy. Who couldn’t understand why she had joined up. Who just wanted a quiet upper-middle class life, lunches with his mother on Sundays, two children and a black lab, and a wife at home. Well – she had failed on all those counts, except on the “two children” deal. The divorce had put an end to all that. After the IED accident, she just couldn’t keep up the charade anymore. She had always been a terrible liar – better deal with guilt than with pretence. Her biggest fear had been that she would lose her children in the divorce – that they would side with their father. It had almost happened.

Cameron… Cameron, their problem child, thankfully seemed back on the right track. Marcus had dealt with everything – the drug problem, the sending down from medical school – while she was on deployment in Afghanistan. She still wondered if Cameron’s behaviour had been a cry for help and attention. A cry she had mostly ignored, too focused on her work. She couldn’t quite believe he was back at uni and doing quite well. From what she had seen during his stint at Holby, he could well become a very good doctor one day. As for Charlotte… Charlotte was another story. “Darling Charlotte”, in Cameron’s scornful words. But – he was right. Charlotte had been a darling little girl. Pretty, well-behaved, an extremely bright student… Until her teenage years, where the mood swings had begun. Still an excellent student, she had begun to spend more and more time in her room. At first they had put her attitude down to “teenagerism”… And if she was completely honest – as long as the grades remained good, she and Marcus hadn’t been too worried. Especially since Charlotte also had bubbly, upbeat moments where she would cook up a storm for the family, sing the whole day long and tell everyone how happy she was. At least, that’s what Marcus had told her. She had been in Iraq then. Still there when she had found a frantic message on her computer, telling him Charlotte had been admitted to the teenaged psychiatric ward at St James after slashing her wrists. She had asked for emergency leave then – four days. After a fourteen-hour trip, she had arrived at the hospital, only to be told her daughter didn’t want to see her. She had pulled rank then, of course – she hated doing that, but even in a civilian hospital, people somehow deferred to Major Berenice Wolfe, RAMC, internationally-known trauma surgeon. People – but not her own daughter, who’d starred at the wall, gritted her teeth, and not uttered a single word. That had been…Nearly seven years ago.

When she had tried to give her marriage another go, the children had been first in her mind – she had wanted to make amends – to get back the years she had lost with them; She had wanted the impossible. She had been away for most of their teens, and now, they were adults. Adults, with their own lives, and not much time for their mother. Cameron had interceded for her with Charlotte, and her daughter had agreed to see her a few times. Bernie had made the trip to Oxford, where Charlotte was studying Psychology and Sociology. Apparently, she was doing fine – the meds seemed to be working. After that first suicide attempt when Charlotte was a teenager, and several months of wandering through specialists’ appointments, a diagnosis had been made – Charlotte was suffering from bipolar disorder. Several more months of trials and errors with drugs, and the doctors had finally found a cocktail which had seemed to suck the life out of her daughter, but also to prevent any relapse. She was still taking them – her shrinks had told Marcus Charlotte would have to take them for life. Bernie had been outraged but powerless. Her daughter had effectively been put in a chemical straitjacket. At least she wasn’t attempting to take her own life anymore, but she didn’t really look happy. Surgery was so much easier – you just dug in – you acted – at once. You didn’t have to rely on a bunch of pills. They had had coffee and cake and talked about nothing… Bernie had pleaded with Charlotte to spend Christmas with her and Serena… And wonder of wonders, her daughter had agreed…

Not that Christmas lunch at Serena’s had gone swimmingly – unless it was in wine, which had flown through the whole meal and still hadn’t been enough to soften the barbs Charlotte had thrown at Serena and Eleanor, or Eleanor at her. All Bernie had wanted was a quiet Christmas with her children and the woman she had fallen in love with. The one positive thing, the one miracle that had come out of the IED. If their vehicle had never blown up – if Alex hadn’t saved her life – if she hadn’t decided to try again with Marcus – if she hadn’t taken Jac Naylor’ s hint seriously… She would never have met Serena. The woman who both terrified and enchanted her. Bernie was terrified of love – she knew that now – she had gone as far as Kiev to realise it. So of course, being in love with the feisty brunette scared her to death, but it was also the best thing that had ever happened in her life. She still couldn’t quite believe it – she certainly hadn’t been looking for a relationship when she had decided to try the civilian life. The scars of the divorce and of the break-up with Alex had still been very raw when she had first run into Serena in the parking lot… And she had had little hope the feisty, strong-minded, man-eating head of AAU would be the least interested in a woman like herself… Their story was by no means a fairy-tale, but so far, it was going quite well. They were both mature enough not to take their children’s digs personally…In theory at least. Neither Charlotte nor Eleanor had quite accepted the fact their mothers were lesbians, and both had sharp tongues. She had seen Serena drink even more than usual on Christmas day, and she herself had stolen away several times to smoke in the garden. She had never been fond of Christmas anyway – since her mother had died when she was still a child, Christmas had been a morose day spent in tête-à-tête with her father when he hadn’t been in deployment abroad. When he was, she was fostered on unsuspecting and usually childless relatives who tried their best but couldn’t quite cut it. Anyway, Christmas was over, but AAU was still manic, as always. Serena’s voice calling for help with a new arrival cut short her reminiscences.


	2. Chapter 2

“Drinks at Albies’ ? I’m buying the first round” suggested Serena, looking at Bernie and Fletch as they were scrubbing off after a long and difficult surgery. The patient had arrested twice and both women had taken it in turn to bring him back to life. Bernie looked even paler than usual and Serena, on the contrary, was flushed with adrenalin. They operated well together, but even for the most experimented teams, seven-hour surgeries were always gruelling.

“Can’t do, I’m afraid – I promised the kids pizza.”

“Come on, Fletch – Serena’s buying! Are you sure you want to cry off?”

Bernie didn’t really want to go either but she didn’t want to let Serena go alone, or risk her becoming moody because she’d been deprived of her treat. In that Alex and Serena were very much alike – if they didn’t get their own way, they could sulk for England. She finished washing her hands slowly, washing off the stress of the operation at the same time and enjoying the silence of the small room before the hubbub of Albies’. Following Serena to their shared office, she grabbed her handbag and her coat, sensing her partner’s impatience. She wouldn’t be sorry to clock off either – she had been on the wards for even longer than Serena, having had another emergency operation to deal with just before. She reached into her handbag for her phone and frowned – it was blinking furiously with several missed called and texts. That was unusual – no one ever phoned her. She still had a few pals in the army but they weren’t really in touch. She pressed the missed call button, listened for a minute and blanched, reaching for the wall to steady her. Serena, deciphering a long and intricate message from Jason on her own phone, was already at the end of the corridor when she noticed Bernie wasn’t with her anymore.

“What is it, love?”

Bernie strode past her without a word and Serena, now worried, hurried to catch up with her. “Bernie? Bernie, what’s wrong?”

“Not now, Serena,” murmured Bernie through gritted teeth, so low that the brunette almost missed the words. “I’ve got to go- it’s Charlotte.”

“Go? Go where? What happened? I’ll take you – you’re not driving like...” Serena’s last words were addressed to thin air – her lover had already disappeared through the hospital doors. Bernie hadn’t told her much about Charlotte. The blonde didn’t really talk about herself, period. She had ranted and raved against Marcus and his unreasonable behaviour during the divorce process, and had told Serena a little about Cameron since he had unexpectedly landed in Holby with his girlfriend Keely and subsequently worked there for a stint as an F1, but Serena had always thought Bernie’s relationship with her daughter was an unwelcome topic for discussion. She had seen herself on Christmas day that mother and daughter appeared to be walking on eggshells around each other, and that after having issued a particularly sharp rebuke to Charlotte during the lunch, Bernie had bitten her lips and looked definitely unhappy. She was hardly in a position to offer advice anyway – her own relationship with Eleanor was for from plain sailing either. She was, however, worried about the expression she had seen on Bernie’s face – deathly pale and distraught. She hurried after her, wanting to catch her before she could get in her car but she wasn’t fast enough. When she reached their spots, the little blue car was already dashing out of the car park.

Bernie’s hands gripped the wheel so tightly they were almost etched into it. It was just a nightmare – she would wake up soon. She was in bed, dreaming, and the alarm clock would interrupt this unreal reality. This was far, far worse than the images speeding behind her closed eyes since the IED accident – when she woke up sweating and crying out, paralysed under the invisible weight of the overturned jeep. Unheeding of the speed limit, she sped on the motorway.

Half an hour later, she all but threw her car haphazardly in St James’ car park and ran into the building. She knew her way to the ICU instinctively, even though the last time she’d been there was about thirty years previously. She swallowed hard, not trusting herself to ask for her daughter’s room without breaking down, but she didn’t have to. Marcus was pacing on the landing and she launched herself at him: “Where is she?” She didn’t want to believe what she saw on her ex-husband’s face.

“Oh, so you’re here now, are you? Took you long enough!” he spat.

“Bastard!” Her tone was as vicious as his. Suddenly his face crumpled and he opened his arms. Bernie shook her head: “I want to see Charlotte- what have they done? How is she?” Marcus gulped and looked straight into Bernie’s eyes: “She’s gone, Bern – there wasn’t anything they could do. She arrested in the ambulance and – I’m so sorry, Bern – I’m sorry.” He reached out again and pulled Bernie into a fierce embrace. She tensed and for one moment he thought she would hit him, but she crumpled in his arms and laid her head on his shoulder. He could hear her repeating over and over again “No, no, no...” in a loop. When she pulled out of his hold, she was still deadly white but her eyes were dry. “I want to see her”, she repeated. She didn’t trust him. It couldn’t be true. There was always something one could do...

Until there wasn’t. Until there was just utter despair. The body – she couldn’t think “Charlotte’s body” just yet – was intact, the hint of a smile lingering on the pale lips. She noted with clinical detachment that rigor mortis has set in, and that from the bruises she could see, the paramedics must have broken a few ribs trying to revive the patient. She had seen so many mangled bodies in her life that she almost tried to hook the heart monitor back to the patient’s finger, just to see the flat line on the screen, because – because the young woman looked too peaceful to be dead. She didn’t notice Marcus coming into the room. She sank to her knees beside the bed and buried her head in the mattress, her daughter’s hand in hers. She had failed.


	3. Chapter 3

She didn’t call Serena. Cameron was away with Morven on a humanitarian mission in Hawaï – she couldn’t bear to think he might not make it back for his sister’s funeral. She and Marcus reached him on Skype from Marcus’ house – he fell to pieces and there was nothing she could do to help her son. In fact, there was nothing she could do at all once her daughter’s body had been transferred to the mortuary. Marcus offered to arrange the funeral and she let him. She didn’t really care – it didn’t matter – all that mattered was that her daughter was dead. She would have turned her rage towards Charlotte’s psychiatrist, but as a doctor herself, she knew he couldn’t be held responsible. Of course the new drug he had given to Charlotte just a week before her suicide had side effects, but which drug hadn’t? There was no-one to blame except herself, because she hadn’t been there for her daughter.

Somehow she fell asleep on the couch in the early morning hours – she had insisted on going home, to the rather sordid little flat she was renting since the divorce. She was supposed to move with Serena someday, so there was no point in finding somewhere better. Marcus hadn’t wanted to let her go – he didn’t want her to drive. She shouldn’t have taken the wheel – her eyes had been blurred by fatigue and sorrow and her pulse had been beating a tattoo in her head – but the need to be alone had trumped everything. It wasn’t like she had never driven in a dire state before… When the sunrise woke her up, she blindly reached for her phone – only a little battery left, just enough to see the several missed call from Serena, not enough to call her back. But there was no need anyway. She would see her at work. She stood shivering under the cold shower, needing the shock of the icy water to wake her up properly. Like every morning, she chose a jumper to put on her black shirt and put on her jeans – she would have welcomed the mindlessness of putting on her old uniform, but her wardrobe wasn’t so extensive that she had any colour dilemmas anyway. She had left her car open, but it was still there, parked in the street not far from her building. She almost laughed at the irony – lucky enough not to get her car stolen, unlucky enough to have a dead daughter. She drove the by-now familiar way to Holby hospital, parked in her usual bay, noted Serena’s was parked in hers and walked to AAU. She didn’t have time to notice the strange looks Fletch and some other members of the staff were giving her. Serena leapt out of the office like a jack-in-the-box and dragged her inside by the sleeve.

“Bernie! Where were you? I was going to come round your place last night but we had a multi-cars RTC and – well, you know how manic it gets. You could answer your phone once in a while, too – it would be nice!”

That Bernie sat down heavily in her chair without bothering to answer did nothing for Serena’s temper. Exhausted after another night of just a few snatched hours of sleep, Serena was all too ready to accuse her partner of once again not trying to communicate.

“I suppose I should be glad you’re here”, she added sarcastically. “It will save me the bother of leaving yet another message on your answering machine. And if you don’t want to tell me what you did last night – well, don’t – that’s fine by me.”

Serena didn’t like the deep dark shadows under her lover’s eyes, nor the haunted look, but she wouldn’t beg – if Bernie didn’t want to tell her, well…

Bernie put her head in her hands and murmured something inaudible.

“I’m sorry?”

Bernie stared straight at Serena then, and the words fell like pellets of lead: “Charlotte – died – yesterday”.

Serena’s hand went to her mouth as she stifled an exclamation: “Bernie! Why…How…What…” She was almost scared to put her arms round her lover, as Bernie suddenly appearing on the verge of shattering, as if she was made of crystal. She did, though – awkwardly, without too much force, and Bernie buried her head in her bosom. When someone knocked at the office door not five minutes afterwards, Bernie jerked her head back and took a deep breath.

“Come in!”

Fletch handed Serena an x-ray and Bernie almost snatched it from her. “What is it?” she barked. She listened intently to Fletch’s explanations and nodded: “Prep him – we’ll be there in five.” Serena looked at her aghast but the fierce look Bernie threw at her made her swallow back the countermanding remark she was going to utter. As Fletch closed the door behind him, however, she grabbed Bernie with both hands and forced her to look at her.

“Bernie – listen to me, please, love. You’re in shock. I get it – I understand – I was like that when I lost my mother and that was… Well, expected. You can’t be here. I’ll deal with that surgery, and I’ll clear my day. We can – you can, just… I don’t know – take time and…”

Bernie looked at her as if she was a complete stranger: “We’re not doing that, Serena. I’m not going home. We’ve got work to do.”

Hating herself for having to inflict more pain, Serena knew she had to get through to her lover: “Bernie – listen to me. Your – daughter – died – yesterday. You can’t be at work! You need time -”

“Time for what exactly, Serena?” Bernie interrupted harshly, wrenching out of Serena’s hold. “It’s too late! I never spent enough time with my daughter in the first place – I was always at work. Now, work is all I have left – so I’ll do my job, and try not to fuck up there too!”

“You can’t say that – you’ve got Cam, you’ve got… Well, you’ve got me, too! We’re together in this.”

Bernie took a deep breath and stared at the floor. When she looked back at Serena, her eyes were full of pain: “I’m not good for you, Serena. Remember how Eleanor acted at Christmas? The last thing I want is to drive a wedge between you two. I’ve lost my daughter, I don’t want you to lose yours. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” She strode out the office, adding “I’ll see you in theatre”, and walked away, leaving a stunned Serena behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

The atmosphere in theater was ice cold, and the air conditioning wasn’t at fault. Bernie already regretted her words, but there was no way she would back down. She really thought she was right about not making Serena’s life as messy as hers but... As for Serena, she was still reeling from Bernie’s news and from her words, and although she knew her lover wasn’t acting rationally right now, she couldn’t help feeling hurt. Dark-brown wounded eyes stared at miserable hazel ones above the surgical masks. The usual banter which got them through the most difficult surgeries was notably absent and the absolutely necessary clipped words exchanged the only sound above the hum of the machines.

They scrubbed off in silence too and made their way back to the office. They both got on their computers, Bernie deliberately avoiding her blinking mobile, and both pretended to be engrossed by admin. Two hours afterwards, Bernie got up and went to check on their patient. The seventy-something woman had fallen from a stepladder while she was trying to pack up her Christmas decorations. She had sustained a liver injury, burst her spleen and broken several bones. She had been lucky to survive the fall and although they’d done their best for her, there were always post-operative risks. Satisfied that she and Serena had apparently repaired the worst damage, Bernie sighed and leant against a wall. She suddenly felt weary to her bones. Her eyes stung but the tears wouldn’t come out. She hadn’t cried. Even though she had sometimes shed a few tears of rage and exhaustion on the field, after heavy losses, this time, for her own daughter, her eyes remained dry. When she came back to the office, Serena was waiting for her, coat on her arm: “Bernie – we should go home now. You’re coming home with me – I’m not leaving you alone tonight.”

Bernie shook her head – she didn’t want Serena with her. She didn’t want anyone with her.

“If you don’t come with me, I’m going to get blind drunk, and you don’t want that to happen...” Serena hated resorting to emotional blackmail – her own mother had used the technique far too much – but she didn’t know how to breach the wall Bernie had retreated behind. Judging by the disgusted glance Bernie threw at her, it didn’t work any better on her lover than it had when Adrienne had tried it with her. Finally, as Bernie was getting into her car, Serena played her last card: “Bernie – please, love – do it for me? I need you. Please…”

“You don’t – believe me. You don’t.”

*****

Bernie did not even bother to undress or to switch the lights on. Fully clothed, she burrowed under the duvet and curled up into a small tight ball. She hated herself for doing that to Serena. She hated herself for having “lost” her daughter. What a stupid term – she hadn’t mislaid Charlotte, like a hankie or a key. She hadn’t left her to fend for herself in a wood full of witches and bad wolves… Or maybe, in a way, she had. She had thought her daughter was on the right path, that she was on her way to adulthood and that she was all right. Charlotte had, however, wandered into a back alley and that detour had killed her. Around three in the morning, she finally looked at her text messages – Cameron was on his way home, the funeral would take place in three days. As she stared at the darkness, she wondered whether she would make it. Maybe she should just re-enlist – the Army had never let her down, they would welcome her back. She could ask to go back to Afghanistan – or even further away – Somalia, maybe. Then she would forget Holby, keep a Charlotte-shaped wound on her heart and get forgotten and hopefully forgiven too.

She must have fallen asleep, because it was light when she opened next her eyes. Like the day before, she got up, dressed on autopilot and drove to the hospital. Fletch told her Serena was stuck in admin meetings for the whole day and she heaved a sigh of relief. She could just hold it together for work, she couldn’t deal with her partner just yet. The sleepless night had not brought much relief, but it had convinced her she had behaved like a coward and a cad. She would have to apologise to Serena eventually and to beg her forgiveness – but not yet – not while her nerves were so frayed she feared she would break at the least show of kindness.

Bernie worked tirelessly until the early evening. She drank the coffee and ate the biscuits Fletch brought her in the afternoon, not wanting to pass out, but her frown when he tried to say something made him back off. She knew that by now everyone must be aware of her loss – hospitals were rife with gossip at the best of times and tragic news seemed to make the rounds even faster than good ones. She just refused to talk about it – talking would not bring Charlotte back. She was almost home free, in the corridor on her way out, when Serena appeared at the corner. Bernie hung her head but she couldn’t avoid the confrontation. Studiously avoiding Serena’s eyes, she swallowed hard and murmured “Serena- I’m so sorry…” Serena didn’t answer – she dropped her briefcase and opened her arms, welcoming Bernie in her embrace. Her hands caressed the blond hair and rubbed her lover’s back. “We’ll get through this together, love – I promise. I’ll be there for you. Trust me?”

“Always,” murmured Bernie as the first tears rolled on her cheeks.


End file.
